The Quiet - 8 years later

 I sit in the dark in the tree swing in our back yard. A place I seem to find every time I need to be quiet with you and think, connect and reflect. A place that feels so familiar to me. And yet- it’s a place in our back yard you never knew. I remember wanting a swing after you passed so I could sit outside and rock with Aria. In survival mode and not thinking clearly I googled and found a post about wrapping a tow rope around the branch like 10 times ( so it wouldn’t hurt the tree like tree swing things do apparently). I bought the swing and the tow rope on Amazon, and one day when all our guy friends were here to help with yard work and other honey-do’s, they chuckled quietly and hung my swing from the damn tree with a tow rope. It’s crazy to me how many moments I’ve had in my life in this tree swing. But none of them were with you. Yet they were about you. 

I can’t help but sing in my head Evanescence My Immortal. 

Your presence still lingers here, and it won’t leave me alone. These wounds won’t seem to heal, this pain is just too real, there’s just so much that time can not erase….

I don’t live in this pain every day anymore- thank goodness. But as I’ve said repeatedly, when I sit in it - it is no different than the first night.

We had an evening just like this. A beautiful fall evening, comfortable to be outside on the back deck that we helped build. We gathered, smiled, laughed. We held each other up just by being together but we were falling apart. We all dreaded when the time came to go to bed and be alone with our thoughts.  Our reality. Our life without you. 

So much of that first year - or two… was and still is such a blur. Honestly the past 8 years have been a blur. And I don’t know if that’s just how it is once you become a parent?  I don’t know because I never got to experience just the  drastic life change of becoming a parent. I was also loosing you, and then grieving the loss of you and figuring out how to be an only parent. And from then on I just haven’t stopped going, going, going. I don’t know where I’m going, I just seem to need to do all the things because I just want to live and experience. Because what I value so much as I think back on our 10 years together is all the experiences we had. Those are the memories that flood back. And I am so grateful we did the things we did and we did life with the people we did. 

And so I continue to look for the experiences, make the connections, do the things - because life is short. And maybe because I am still running from the quiet. And have some serious FOMO…so thanks for that. (Chuckle)

And so I come here, every Father’s Day, every August 22nd, every September 23rd (and if our anniversary wasn’t March 25th which is usually a blizzard) to be here in the quiet with my thoughts of you. And it  brings me memories both good and bad, awareness of broken dreams, the return of heartache and tears. And yet here I am - surrounding myself in quiet to be with my thoughts of you. Because even every moment that brings me pain is bittersweet because it is still about you. 

Side note: I wrote this just as a journal entry - the conscious stream of thought type. Just blah blah blah - get it out. And as I reread it, it felt right to just share it - in its rawness

7 years out

 

7 years.

I sit here looking at that, just letting it sink in. Tears form in my eyes and my lungs tighten.  How? How could 7 years have passed? 

I’m trying to reflect and identify what is it that I’m feeling. What is the same and what is different from 2,555 days ago as I have progressed and lived with grief and loss. 

As I’ve always said, my love for Brandon and the pain of the loss of Brandon are the same.  But it feels that everything else is different. 

Some things I’m glad are different. Like the presence of grief is very much incorporated into my life in what I think is a healthy balance. It’s been a while since it has consumed me or has been what felt like my primary identity; widowed. 

I am different, in some ways I’m proud of and others I’m not. 

Aria is different, she is a 7 year old developing her sense of self and individuality.

Life is just different. As good as that can be, it’s also such a challenge when part of your heart lives in the past. 

My memories are different. Foggier.  And I have to search my mind for some details. 

I think this specifically is what anyone who has lost someone is so scared of.  And this may be more unique to me; that I often have to search my mind to recall things that were so familiar once - you think you’d never forget.  

The other day as I was looking at a menu it randomly crossed my mind that I wasn’t sure what soda Brandon would have ordered.  Sprite? Ginger ale? Coke? Why can’t I remember this? What else have I forgotten? What else will I forget?  

I know I will never forget the important things, like how selfless he was. Or how he could empathize with others and have the perfect words of wisdom to give guidance. And I take so much comfort in that. 

But this is a journey that will be a part of the rest of my life and it evolves, just as I evolve. I know I can not move forward in my life by holding on to everything in my past. It just does not work that way. But knowing that truth still doesn’t make these realizations along the way hurt any less. It just helps me know I have to allow space for these feelings so I can hold them, and have them, and then make peace with them.

So here I am, journaling/writing - my way of identifying and coping with these feelings that come with grief.

But don’t get me wrong - I do not live in this space. I carve out time on days like these to revisit this part of myself. Remember. Feel. Honor. Embrace. This allows me to then set it aside for a while, and focus on continuing to live the life I have which is beautiful.

Brandon’s 39th Birthday

Today is Brandon’s birthday. He would have been 39 this year. 

It’s crazy how at certain times the tears just fall. I can live life, think of him (every day), and keep on keeping on. 

Then days like today the tears just fall.  And as they do I realize that it still hurts the same as it did every year prior.  I do not miss him any less. I don’t think I ever will.  

It’s just crazy to me that now it’s a somewhat comforting thing. 

I think we are so afraid that we are going to forget or that they will be forgotten. And as time goes on the time between tears gradually gets longer and longer. The routines of day to day life become the focus. The days are long but the years are short. And suddenly it’s been almost 6 years since I held his hand. It feels so far away. Like another life all together. I have to remind myself of the life I had before that looks so different from the life I have now. And I get scared that I’m going to leave him behind because each year it seems details become a little less vivid.

Of course I know that I will never forget him, and I also know that it wouldn’t be healthy to try to carry all of him with me.  But there are times I have to search my mind to remember something - like what size and brand of jeans he wore, and that hurts. 

The reality is that time takes things from us. And it wouldn’t be a healthy life if I spent all my energy trying to carry the past with me, and missing out on what the present needs from me. And yet, even when we can rationalize these thoughts - It. Doesn’t. Make. Them. Hurt. Less. 

But it does give the feelings space to be what they are. I work hard not to dismiss them, and just let them be felt. And it never ceases to surprise me how quickly and intensely the tears come when I sit in reflection on days like today. 

I’m in a place in life where I can embrace these moments, not run from them. It brings me a strange comfort to see how my soul remembers so perfectly. Because love does not die. And though I can live my life without Brandon, my life will never be without him. 

14th Wedding Anniversary

Today would have been Brandon and my 14 year wedding anniversary. Instead it’s my 5th anniversary without him.  

It’s so very strange. It feels like the distance between he and I has grown so much more this 5th year.  And as always it’s bittersweet. With the distance of time comes healing of wounds and the ability to incorporate loss into the actual living of life.  But with it also comes the searching to remember the little things and the pain of trying to remember his voice. 

Yet some things have not changed with this distance.

Speaking of my love for him never comes without a cracked voice and tears, no matter how hard I try to hold it back. And if you know me well you know that I am expressive, passionate and temperamental in nearly every emotion...but sadness. Sadness is deeply personal and private to me, and yet I can’t hide the effects of this sadness when the feelings rush to be felt.

Brandon’s legacy and the effect he had, correction...has on me has not changed. I am still inspired by his influence on my life. I have struggled greatly navigating these past 5 years. And so much of it was the loss of a sense of self. The first few years I concentrated on working through my grief, and I worked ALL THE THINGS.  Counseling, Grief Share, support groups, books, podcasts, creating and facilitating a young and widowed group (still going strong and serving so many!), grief yoga, EMDR...you name it I likely tried it. And it all helped and would have been all the things Brandon, as a psychologist, would have encouraged a grieving widow to do. More recently I found a place in myself to examine myself, not my grief. In January God lead me to a class/group essentially about ownership of self. Really examining the depths of ourselves and owning who we are and challenging ourself to grow in knowledge of and confidence in oneself. This 18 week class and a weekend retreat has all been put on hold at the moment due to COVID-19, but what a breath of fresh air to step outside my situation, my grief, and see myself individually. Remember who I am, not who I’ve become through loss.  And I know Brandon would be elated that I’m on this path now.

I never would have thought this journey would be like this. I think we hope that one day we will not “be sad” anymore, but for many (dare I say most) of us that is an impossibility. We can’t just wake up some morning and be “over it” or “ready to move on”.  I will never be over the loss of Brandon. And we like to say we are “moving forward”, not moving on, because moving on suggests leaving something behind. This is not something I can leave behind, I carry it with me every day. And I can still say not a single day has passed that I have not thought of him. And I’m ok with that - because the majority are things don’t make me cry because it’s over, but instead make me smile because it happened.

I will always treasure the choice I made to marry Brandon 14 years ago today. And I will always remember the way that decision changed my life forever, for better or for worse.  

And today I dedicate this song to my Brandon:

https://youtu.be/U6oJODFyprM

Lyrics:

One, two, three

And you've gone so far

Far from me

As I fall apart

If I had known the way I'd feel

Right from the start

I wouldn't change anything

But my broken heart

Four, five, six

This is killing me

What I miss most

Is everything

If I had known the way I'd feel

Right from the start

I wouldn't change anything

But my broken heart

I didn't know

Watching you go

Would ever be this hard

I close my eyes

And be by your side

Wondering where you are

If I had known then what I know

Now right from the start

I wouldn't change anything

But my broken heart

One, two, three

And you've gone so far

Far from me

Like the morning stars

If I had known the way I'd feel

Right from the start

I wouldn't change anything

But my broken heart

I wouldn't change anything

But my broken heart

5 year Angelversary

12:15pm passes. It’s officially been 5 years. I take a break from work and sit outside reflecting. 

This one feels big. 5 years is one of those milestones seemingly different than 2,3 & 4 years. As momentous as 1 year, but in a different way. 

1 year was acknowledging pure survival. One full cycle through this new life. 5 years is acknowledging this significant passing of time and many cycles through this new life.

I look for visual cues of the time passed. The back yard is so different from when we all sat on the deck that evening 5 years ago.  The wall between the kitchen and living room where we whispered grim updates is gone.  But the greatest reminder of the time gone by is Aria. A newborn then, and now a 5 year old. Only 10 weeks of difference between the life changing events of birth and death. 

I’m still not sure how this grieving thing goes. I can honestly say that not a single day has gone by in 5 years that I have not thought of Brandon. I don’t speak of him every day, but I am reminded of him every day. 

I miss him just as much as I did 5 years ago and the depth at which it hurts is the same then and now. But yet it’s very different.

Shock, fear, anger and disorientation all accompanied that pain then.  It was nearly constant and all consuming.  Now acceptance and normalization bring some sweet relief when I visit my pain. I’m reminded of how far I’ve come and how I’ve incorporated this loss into life, and no longer  desperately battling to bring back life into loss. 

It hurts as deeply and intensely as it did then, but I have more strength to hold it now and it’s more familiar now. I know I can set it down when I need to and sit with it without fear when I need to.  I’ve even come to take some comfort in my grief, that despite the years accumulating my soul has not forgotten him and still aches just the same over the loss of him.

I do have to work harder to retrieve memories and remember his favorite things and his little quirks. It used to be so familiar.  But as time passes some things fade. And that’s hard.

But I never need to dive deep to remember how he loved me. I still feel it today, and that’s truly eye opening to me.  How  impactful how we make others feel really is.  

Friends still cry with me, or tear up or voices crack when remembering Brandon. Sorry, not sorry, but it’s incredibly comforting to me to experience those moments. It lets me know the depth at which he touched so many and the love that so many have for him.

I can finally say I don’t identify myself first as a widow. I am widowed, and will always be. Being in another relationship or married will never undo my experience. But it’s not my greatest identity anymore I think because the effects of being widowed do not consume the majority of my life anymore.  Thank goodness for that. 

I often wonder what 10 years will be like. I wonder if 5 years from now I’ll be sitting in this backyard reflecting as I have for so many years now.  I imagine so - but one thing I’ve learned is that life takes crazy turns, and whether I’m sitting here or somewhere else, this day will always hold so much weight I know I will never forget.